


Intermission

by matsuri_liekki, Nolita



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Birds, Gen, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matsuri_liekki/pseuds/matsuri_liekki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolita/pseuds/Nolita
Summary: Moments in between Rufus Barma's research.Art by matsuri_liekki (@aki_liekki) and writing by Nolita. This project was created for the Pandora Hearts Reverse Bang!
Relationships: Rufus Barma & Reim Lunettes, Rufus Barma & Sharon Rainsworth, Rufus Barma & Sheryl Rainsworth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. 1.

His visits to the Rainsworth manor are rarely what he has in mind to expect. That tends to be part of what makes them memorable.

The news that Sheryl is in the middle of a meeting and won’t be able to speak to him for a while yet is assuredly not what Rufus had in mind to expect.

He is led to the drawing room to wait in the company of her granddaughter and receives a polite, clipped greeting. As soon as he is seated, Sharon Rainsworth raises her novel and proceeds to ignore him for the next half an hour. 

The youngest Rainsworth demonstrating her ability to make someone feel the force of her displeasure while entirely ignoring them in favour of her book is certainly memorable.

There is frustrating little to do while he waits, and his eyes focus on the cover of the book in her hands. He recalls that as a child, Sharon seemed to enjoy reading and being read to constantly. Rufus particularly remembers her preference for a book about owlets that he chose for a birthday gift. 

More than ‘remembers’.

It is seared into his memory forever after having to read it over and over and over.   
  
  
His protests back then had been utterly futile.

By the time Sheryl had arrived he would have _still_ been stuck reading the accursed book if Reim’s entrance hadn’t provided him with a brief, desperately needed break. He had watched Sharon’s tiny hands spread out the pages carefully as she showed Reim every illustration in its full glory. Tiny owlets with specks of brown on their white fledgling feathers on one page, a full family of fluffed up barn owls on the next. 

It had been a long, long time ago even then, and was longer still remembering it now, but Rufus had used to pore over the illustrations in his childhood books in much the same way. It was with much the same kind of energy with which he read now, and used for his research. 

Sharon had made an excited sound when she turned to the next page and pointed at a small, puffed up eastern screech owlet. Rufus had watched as she turned, beaming, and pointed at him. Reim had followed her gaze, and then bit on his lip to stifle a grin and quickly turned back to look at the book.

Rufus recalls taking that moment to mull over the fact that he had never been particularly good with children. The same was still true now, even though the children in question had long since grown.

Sheryl had laughed along with her granddaughter and patted Rufus on the arm consolingly. Amusement had always been one of his favourite expressions of hers, even when it signified danger. That night, at least, the only danger had been another hour of reading to her tenacious granddaughter. 

She had told him that reading the book to Sharon could be part of his gift to her. Rufus had thought that bringing Sharon the book in the first place should have been quite enough, regardless.

But he had stayed, of course.

  
  


He makes brief eye contact with Sharon when he catches her eyeing him distastefully over the binding. She turns the next page with considerably more force and doesn’t so much as glance at him again.

Rufus has better things to do than sit and be the target of Sheryl's granddaughter’s disdain while he waits, but if that is the price he has to pay to see Sheryl…

Arthur Barma's memoirs will be there when he returns, the next entry marked and Rufus’ own notes and translation tucked beside them.

He stays this time too, waiting a little longer and suffering the company of Sheryl’s granddaughter.


	2. 2.

On another day, he might have enjoyed observing the swarm of pigeons.The flight patterns and calls of birds have always fascinated him and pigeons are no exception, even with their overwhelming number in this region. 

But at a time like this, when he has so much left to do, the squabbling is particularly… grating. 

Rufus turns a page.

The laughter of the children running around sowing arcs of seed left and right as more pigeons arrive in a flurry is not helping him focus either. 

The sky outside has dimmed a little by the time he has finished with the next page, but the children are still playing as gleefully and noisily as ever. 

Rufus considers raising an illusion or two to startle them all away. Nothing too big, nothing too frightening. Nothing that would draw too much attention and get back to Sheryl… 

Reim’s arrival on the scene interrupts his train of thought along with the train of pigeons pecking at the scattered seeds. From the other side of the window, Rufus sees him take a route around the fountain so as not to disturb the children. He carefully steps around several birds pecking at stray seeds. Two of them hop away warily, but there is remarkably little disturbance. 

Hearing updates from Pandora and piling Reim with work to do is a welcome distraction from the commotion outside and the day’s painfully slow progress.

As Reim speaks, the scene from the window changes. The children start to disperse, called away by governesses beckoning them inside. Eventually they concede their protests and start to follow, but not before the tallest of the group throws what looks to be the contents of an entire small sack of seeds all over the street. 

Pigeons descend upon it from all directions. Laughing and crowing with brazen delight, the girl spins around and allows herself to be ushered away after the others without further complaint. 

Reim seems to have noticed the commotion outside too; his eyes flicker to the window and Rufus notices him visibly wince even though his delivery barely falters. There’s a definite smile there too, but he raises his hand to cover it with a small cough. 

When Reim leaves, it is with a new stack of documents, letters and strict instructions to deliver everything right away. 

Rufus has only a few minutes to contemplate the sudden peace and quiet. Hearing the increased flutter of wings outside, he raises his head to the window once again.

Reim is taking a brisk pace back the way he came, just as careful to not walk through the birds or their precious mountain of seed, but with a little more haste this time. It doesn’t take long until he is out of sight; disgruntled pigeons hop back into their places and begin pecking at the seed and settling their ruffled feathers. 

Rufus draws the curtain closed on the day’s scene and returns to the pages in front of him.


	3. 3.

The calls of owls outside bring his thoughts to Sheryl, as so many things tend to do. The path of those thoughts feels like heading home.

Sleep should be on his schedule at some point, but once inspiration hits he can't bring himself to stop writing until he is finished. He is in his element; ink flows upon the page, sustained and uninterrupted. He will always make time to write these letters, even when he is waist deep in pages of complicated code and his own desperate records of attempts to crack through.

Love is quite as worthy a cause as knowledge. He will always make time to write for Sheryl, no matter the hour.

Rufus seals the envelope with practiced care and wonders if this one may bring her some light in these difficult time. And hopefully be spared from the fireplace.

His own room is pitch black except for the pool of light he has been writing the letter in. When he extinguishes the light, the owls can still be heard in the darkness beyond.

There is so much ahead yet to be done, but he is close to a breakthrough. He is certain of it. Perhaps it will be the very next page. The first one he looks over tomorrow.

He drifts away to the sound of soft, distant hoots.

The morning sun wakes the diurnal birds first. It is his canary that wakes him in the way that it so often does: chirping comforting sounds that lilt into a song.

Rufus rises; looks up to the window as the morning light slopes in. When he reaches the cage his fingers rest on the bars and the bird nudges his hand affectionately.

The sun streams in through the window and shines over them.


End file.
